


Blackberry Kiss

by Selkie_de_Suzie



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Marianne gets creative..., Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sweet, butterfly bog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie_de_Suzie/pseuds/Selkie_de_Suzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things like favorite colors and favorite foods are what Average, Normal, Run Of The Mill couples would know easily, and, well…they’ve always been Different. Marianne would never deny them that, but…she thinks she *might* wanna change it up in one regard. </p>
<p>A tender bit of fluff and fun!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackberry Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy little drabble I’ve wanted to do for a while! The result of not being able to get through the angst of this current chapter of "Between the Shadow and the Soul" and desperately wanting to post SOMETHING. Hope you enjoy!

Thiers wasn’t the usual romance, Marianne knew that. 

It was a fact that she took comfort in, honestly – it wasn’t the usual romance because it was  _their_  romance,  _their_ relationship, and therefore it was wonderfully and amazingly  _different_. Strange and magical and all their own, and no one could take it away from them. After the mess of their first experiences with Love, it was a fact that Marianne damn well savored.

Admittedly, when written out on paper, on would assume that everything they had done spelled a relationship all too likely not to last – fight at their first meeting, kidnap her sister, fall in love in the space of a single night…

But then again, on paper Roland seemed wholly charming. As such, Marianne put little store in the power of predictions scrawled out on paper, ink tidy and dry and denying the mess of emotions and reality.

So they  _weren’t_  like the average couple. _Thank god._

But…there were some things that the normal couple knew about one another that Marianne thought she  _ought_  to know about Bog. Though she only used the term  _couple_  for sake of convenience seeing as she still got itchy whenever she thought about it when applied to them. Though  _boyfriend_  and  _girlfriend_  were still the worst –

Marianne sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she made her way down the hall to the main dining room of the Dark Forest’s Castle.  _Stop distracting yourself_.

Although she  _wasn’t_  distracting herself from anything, definitely  _not_ lingering over her conversation with Dawn and her little sister’s surprise over Marianne’s inability to state with absolute conviction what Bog’s favorite food or color was. 

Marianne’s shoulders rose in a hunch, just as they had when she had made her somewhat defensive reply.  _“What, and you know **every**  little thing about Sunny?”_

_“Well, duh! Of course I do, Marianne, we’ve been friends forever! That’s what couples know about each other!”_

Something must have flashed across her face at that, because Dawn’s big blue eyes had widened and she had quickly switched to a different topic. Marianne had contributed what she could, her mind elsewhere, echoing with those words…

She now scowled and straightened out of her hunch. So what if Bog and her were still learning stuff about each other? So what if she couldn’t recall –  _incredibly basic_  – facts about him? They were doing things their own way, weren’t they? She and Bog  _weren’t_  Dawn and Sunny, and those two had been joined at the hip ever since Dawn had ventured down into the Elf Village that one fateful day. Of course they would know more about each other than she and Bog did…

And if one looked at it a certain way, not knowing things…well, that was kind of fun, wasn’t it?

_“Try thinking of this as an adventure…!”_

Marianne couldn’t stop her smile at the echo of Bog’s voice, so happy and excited on that long ago night.  _Why not?_  Each thing they learned about each other was another wonderful little discovery on the adventure that was their love…

Cheered by that thought, Marianne entered the dining chamber, her heart nearly as light as her feet, and shot a warm smile at the Goblin setting out the dishes for dinner. “Hey Griselda. Smells amazing in here…”

The King’s Mother beamed back, her small eyes squinting in pleasure. “Aw, thanks, baby-doll! I’m just glad you’ve got an appetite for my cooking, it’s rare when a Fairy appreciates Goblin grub!”

Marianne gave a dry chuckle. “It was… _different_  than what I was used to, that’s for sure.” Especially the meat. Eating flesh other than fish had honestly rather repelled Marianne for a bit, never mind the fact that most of the goblins preferred it as bloody and raw as possible. But now the crackle of it on the fire could practically make her drool, and whatever faults Griselda had, cooking was most assuredly not one of them.  _Unlike her_.

Marianne would have blamed her lack of skills in the kitchen on her privileged upbringing, but there was the undeniable fact that Dawn was as much as a genius with pastry and goodies as she was with crafts and fashion. Although neither of them had ever had to worry about setting the table or any kind of cleaning up –

With that in mind, Marianne felt a prickle of shameful embarrassment burn across her neck, and she stepped to the table to help set it. Griselda gave an appreciative hum, and a small smile curled at Marianne’s lips before she looked down and counted the number of chairs compared to the number of dishes. “Griselda, are you  _sure_  it’s okay if I stay for dinner? I wouldn’t want one of the goblins to give up a place for me –“

But Griselda waved a blasé hand. “Aw, honey, we like bein’ cozy! Brutus’s lap is plenty big enough for some goblins, and…” Griselda’s voice got a seriously sly edge to it, “…I betcha that Boggy wouldn’t mind havin’ a certain  _someone_ on his –“

_“Oooookay!_  Um, that’s…that’s good…” Marianne laughed, her cheeks hot and letting herself stare fixedly at the table, steadfastly ignoring Griselda’s resulting chuckle. God, of course she would go there. Marianne seriously enjoyed the informality of the goblins communal style of eating, but sitting on Bog’s lap in front of his subjects was a line to cross for another day.  

(How much she ended up entwined with him in their private moments was another matter entirely, those were private moments for a  _reason_ …)

Still concentrating her attentions upon the table, Marianne’s eyes darted from dish to dish and found herself arching a brow, distracted from her awkwardness. “You guys have blackberries here? I thought the Forest didn’t have the right soil to support crops –“

“Nah, blackberries are hardy little things,” Griselda said sagely, finishing placing the last set of dishes upon the table. “They do good in forests, and they don’t need the best soils. They’re a favorite treat for goblins.” Griselda smiled then smiled fondly. “Especially Boggy. They’re his favorite food, he used to absolutely  _gorge_ himself on them when he was little. Greedy little guy used to get  _so_  many tummy-aches –“

Marianne whirled around, her eyes wide.  _“They’re Bog’s favorite food?”_

Griselda was now the one to cock a brow, looking faintly befuddled at such eager surprise. “Sure, he loves them. What, he never mentioned that?”

Marianne shook her head slowly, looking back at the table and her tone oddly ashamed. “We…haven’t really talked much about that kind of stuff, honestly…”

Griselda tilted her head at that, narrowed her eyes a bit, but then nodded. “Different couples go at different speeds.”

Marianne turned back to look at her, her eyes wide, and the little Gobliness’s eyes twinkled as her mouth stretched wide in a warm grin. “Besides, ya don’t need to know  _every_ little thing about a person to have yourself a swell relationship. Discoverin’ stuff is part of the fun.”

Marianne felt her cheeks grow warm from something entirely different than embarrassment -  _man, but it was nice to have some motherly advice back in her life_  -  and Griselda’s grin grew before turning back to the table. “But that doesn’t mean ya gotta keep mum about that kinda stuff, or never use any little tidbits to plan somethin’ sweet,” she said airily, and then shot an unnervingly coy look at the Fairy Princess. “On that note, ya any good at bakin’, sweet-pea? Boggy might like blackberries in one of those tarts you fairies do.”

Marianne blinked and then laughed, shaking her head in a mix of self-deprecation and bashfulness.  _“God, no_. Everyone says that I’m just as dangerous in the kitchen as I am with a sword – the only difference is that I  _know_  how to handle a sword.”  

She finished setting the last of her plates down and set her hands on her hips, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “But…I  _might_ be able to come up with something though.”

Griselda nodded, looking blissfully unconcerned. “I’m sure ya will, lovebug. It might be something different, but as long as it comes from you, Boggy will be thrilled.”

Marianne nodded distractedly, but then a smile, slow and sweet and faintly wicked, curled across her lips as Griselda’s words caught up to her. “Yeah…” she murmured in a soft drawl, her eyes getting bright as amber in sunlight as an idea began to form in her head. “Something… _different…”_

* * *

“You honestly think that there’s a danger you’ll be attacked and forced to fight over some marshes?” Bog asked with a fair amount of skepticism, casually shouldering his scepter as they made their way back from the Marsh Lands.

“A warrior needs to know how to fight on as many terrains as possible,” Marianne retorted, linking her arm through his and snuggling up to him as they walked. 

Bog did one better and twined his arm around her so that she was pressed against his side, the shift and slide of his scales brushing along her cheek. After all that flying, their wings were just too sore to even contemplate flying back to the Castle, and Marianne was beginning to see the pros of walking when it included the simple pleasures of strolling through the Forest with its King by her side…

Marianne nuzzled against him, and Bog made a small noise of contentment and fatigue – the spar had been a good one – before continuing on. “Aye, fair enough, but when you could simply  _fly_  away to a surface you could actually  _land on_ –“

“But what if I can’t?” Marianne challenged, arching a brow up at him. “What if they have me surrounded, and my only choice is to fight them down to the very last one, and it’s over a dangerous stretch of water? What  _then_ , almighty Bog King?”

Bog snorted. “I’d say that the true salt of a warrior comes from their adaptability and quick-thinking rather than their stubbornness –“

“And  _I’d_  say that’s incredibly hypocritical of you,” Marianne replied, no real bite to her retort, and Bog’s smile had a self-deprecating slant to it. She smothered a grin – the reasons she had given Bog for fighting over the marsh had been good ones, but it wasn’t the  _real_  reason she had wanted to have their spar here.  _That_  had been only a few feet away from the marshes, the thicket thorny and lush with sweet, dark fruit –

“And I would say that  _you’re_  being contrary for the sheer sake of being contrary,” Bog said suddenly, his tone rather dry as he looked down at her, arching a scaly brow _. “Tough Girl.”_

She smiled up at him teasingly, her eyes warm and brightly golden as honey in the sun. “And if I was?”

“Then I would be compelled to admit that I find you exceedingly lovely when you’re being just that,” Bog replied, his tone an odd mix of both sincere and sly as he lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing a whisper of a kiss over the pale ridges of her knuckles.

Marianne bit her lip as he continued on, his voice close to a rough murmur even as his eyes gleamed at her. “And that I don’t think anyone could ever wear anger or spite or sheer bull-headness as well as you do.”

Marianne’s cheeks pinked, and even as she rolled her eyes she wasn’t able to stop a fond smile from spreading across her face.  _“Flatterer.”_  God, but that he could go from stuttering to smooth in only a few seconds…  

_“Honest,”_  Bog retorted, still cradling her hand close and looking down at her with so much honest–to–god affection in his eyes that she was close to breathless.  _After all this time,_   _it could still almost scare her, how deep his feelings for her went –_

She freed her hand to palm the rough line of his jaw, tugging him to her, her voice soft and the curl of her smile twisting her words.  _“Then c’mon, your majesty…”_

As they kissed, sweet and slow and hungry, Marianne  _knew_  that she and Bog definitely couldn’t be like other couples in this regard. Surely no one else could know the gorgeously burgeoning warmth that his lips and teeth and tongue coaxed from her, the shivers that his claws elicited as he stroked long, gorgeously gnarled fingers across her skin –

Then Bog pulled back, his eyes wide, an oddly bewitched look of bewilderment in them.  _“Wha–?_  What was–?”

Marianne blinked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “Yes?”

Bog shook his head slightly, and Marianne had to bite the inside of her cheek when he slowly licked his lips, the pointy edge of his tongue dragging along them as if determined to catch something. “You…you taste…” 

He blinked before looking at her, his voice both confused and rather husky.  _“Different.”_

_“Hmmm…”_  Marianne hummed, trying for a pondering, thoughtful expression but instead ending up with an extremely pleased smirk, her eyes hooded. “Must be my new lip stain. Blackberries.” Her lips, dark and sweet, curled into a rather hungry smile as she looked up at him and arched a brow, the amber of her gaze clear and brilliant and smoldering. “You like it?”

Bog’s eyes widened, and his voice was now hoarse.  _“Ye…how…how did ye –?”_

“Your mother might have mentioned you had a favorite food.”  Marianne let her fingers scratch sweet and slow at the nape of his neck. “And I might have decided to get creative with my makeup.”

Shock still shone in Bog’s eyes, but now there was a decidedly ravenous glint to those blue depths that had Marianne’s insides feeling all kinds of melty.  _“Ye stained yer lips with my favorite food so tha’ when we kissed –“_

“As a surprise,” Marianne finished, drawing him back so that she could brush her lips over his, and Bog gave a shuddery exhale. “A tasty one.”

She then flushed, realizing just how blatantly saucy the words were, and a traitorous furl of worry went through her.  _Was it too much, too forward?_

She ducked her head down and gave a determinedly careless shrug. “I – I figured I could try  _this_  since I’m honestly not so hot at –“ 

A large, rough palm cradled her chin and quickly tilted it up, and  Marianne found her mouth positively  _devoured_  by Bog’s kiss, deep and hot and sweet and insatiable in his passion. 

Her moan flowed from her like honey, and she could surrender herself to each delicious caress of his tongue, each exquisite nip of his fangs,  _oh god, oh **god** , he tastes  **so**_  –

_“Wha’s yer favorite food?”_  Bog growled out, his voice thickened by hunger and lust, and Marianne shivered as it brushed over her skin.

_“Raspberries,”_  She managed to gasp out, grinning as she pulled him back into a kiss and both of their weapons clattered to the ground. “What, are _you_ gonna start wearing lip stain for me?”

“Per’aps,” Bog purred, and  _oh, yep,_  there went her knees. He swiftly caught her and nuzzled at her neck. “Though Ah was thinkin’ more along th’ lines o’ makin’ ye somethin’ –“

Marianne lurched back, her eyes wide.  _“Wait, **you**  can cook –?!”_

But Bog wasn’t done and pulled her back to him with a low, hungry growl. After all, goblins  _were_  notorious for their greedy appetites and their impatience to sate such ravenous  _want_.  

As they sank into another delicious kiss, Marianne made the delightful discovery that  _that_  was yet another thing she and Bog had in common.


End file.
